


Rewriting The Past

by dovingbird



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, bi discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: “It’s not like it’s bad, anyway. Like, Lindsay, when she did it, she was super calm and chill and-”“Excuse me?” Jeremy barely realized how flat his voice was.“Oh, when Lindsay pegged me the first time.” Michael chuckled. “What, did you think I was just pulling shit out of my ass in there? You think Lindsay was just playing along with me?”Jeremy’s cheeks flamed. He glanced up. And, when he met Michael’s gaze, he realized he couldn’t quite look away.~~A filled commission. Joking about butt stuff on Off Topic leads Michael to challenge Jeremy about it after filming. It opens a can of worms, the likes of which Jeremy was always too terrified to delve into - until now.





	Rewriting The Past

“Jeremy! Hey! Can I talk to you for a second?”  
  
The familiar voice made Jeremy turn as he walked down the hall, far away from the Off Topic set. Michael jogged up toward him, splitting off from Lindsay and the others as he drew closer. “Yeah, what’s up?” Jeremy asked.  
  
Wordlessly, Michael jerked his head down one of the lesser used hallways – one with an empty office or two that Rooster Teeth was still working to fill with faces that Jeremy would probably never recognize. Though he slowed from his jog, Jeremy still instinctively moved faster, trying to stick close to him. Years ago he’d believed that if he slipped up even for one second, he was going to be fired, and the loss of his dream job was still a threat that he carried – even after becoming a core member of the group.  
  
Old habits died hard.  
  
“Hey.” Michael stopped by one of the walls, staring over Jeremy’s shoulder for just a moment before he cleared his throat. “I just, uh, wanted to talk to you for a second, I guess.”  
  
“Sure.” Jeremy shrugged. “What do you need?”  
  
“Nothing.” Michael came a step closer and dropped his voice. “Wanted to check on you; you seemed a little out of sorts on the show.”  
  
He knew what Michael was talking about – they _both_ knew. He wrinkled his brow and shook his head, chuckling. “That? Dude, that was content, c’mon.”  
  
Michael fixed him with a hard gaze and didn’t say anything else – and, just like that, it all came rushing back.  
  
Just joking around. Just a bunch of guys kidding about sticking fingers up their butt or whatever. Jeremy being the only one taking the side of being vehemently against the idea. It was funny. _All_ of it was funny. He’d made a good quality show and people had laughed their asses off.  
  
Michael seemed to think it wasn’t all that funny.  
  
Jeremy looked around them, making sure the hallway was clear, before he dropped his voice. “Michael, uh...you know me, right?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“So you know the kind of guy I am on camera.” He grinned at him. “I take the most extreme side I can. I don’t go to the middle. It’s funnier that way. You’ve gotta have one guy willing to be the one that’s gonna shit on everything, right? Otherwise it just isn’t that funny, it’s just...” Jeremy trailed off, trying to find his logic, but something about the way that Michael was watching him made it hard to find.  
  
Normally, people cut Jeremy off if he started to ramble. They filled the silence for him. They helped him find the conclusion he was struggling to get to. But Michael was a master of patience. He kept watching him – no judgment in his eyes, just a cool mask of neutrality – so that no matter how much Jeremy fumbled, he never really knew when to stop.  
  
He kind of liked that about him, weird as it was. It was nice change of pace, not having someone jump in to cut him off. The only downside was that it ended up making Jeremy look like a fucking idiot in front of him.  
  
“It was a joke. It was all a joke.” _That’s the stunning conclusion you land on, Dooley? Yeah, good fucking job._  
  
“All right.” Michael’s expression didn’t shift an inch. “Just checking on you.”  
  
Jeremy nodded. “I appreciate it.”  
  
“’Cuz it’d be pretty fucked up if you were that scared of having a finger up your butt, dude, like, how’re you gonna handle prostate examinations?”  
  
Jeremy forced himself to laugh, even as nerves twisted his gut up from the inside out. “Yeah, right? Like, I’m gonna be going into that office, just, ‘Hey, no funny business, man.’”  
  
Michael didn’t laugh. Michael kept staring. “I mean, I used to be like that too, when I was younger.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The whole thing where, like, if somebody shoved a finger in my ass, I’d be gay.”  
  
Coldness sank into Jeremy’s stomach.  
  
“Like, oh man, now what! I enjoyed somebody twiddling my prostate! Now I gotta go fuck a bunch of people with dicks or whatever!”  
  
He wasn’t smiling anymore. He wasn’t even _looking_ at Michael. Just feeling the itching adrenaline move through him – the sudden desire to run.  
  
“Anyway, it’s good to know it was just a joke. Maybe in sort of bad taste, but...”  
  
There was an opening right there – _right there_ – for Jeremy to fire back in some impressive display of comedic timing, but he dropped the ball and stared into space.  
  
Michael shifted his weight. The movement made Jeremy flick his gaze back to his torso – fight or flight instinct. “It’s not like it’s bad, anyway. Like, Lindsay, when she did it, she was super calm and chill and-”  
  
“Excuse me?” Jeremy barely realized how flat his voice was.  
  
“Oh, when Lindsay pegged me the first time.” Michael chuckled. “What, did you think I was just pulling shit out of my ass in there? You think Lindsay was just playing along with me?”  
  
Jeremy’s cheeks flamed. He glanced up. And, when he met Michael’s gaze, he realized he couldn’t quite look away. He opened his mouth, trying to question him about it, but he was too jittery – too focused on the intent way he was being watched.  
  
“So, yeah. Funny story. Didn’t make me gay.” Michael quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side.  
  
“You liked it?”  
  
For a long moment Jeremy didn’t realize he’d been the one to say those words. But suddenly, staring at Michael Jones – darling of Rooster Teeth and creator of Rage Quit – it became vitally important to hear his answer – to know, down in the depths of him, how it had been. Maybe it sucked. Maybe Michael hated it. Maybe he was completely on Jeremy’s side about the whole issue.  
  
But, for the first time, that mask of neutrality broke, and Michael slowly began to smirk.  
  
“I mean, like...” Jeremy’s mouth ran, throwing out words he barely even considered. “Not, like, was it good or whatever, I meant if, y’know, it had to be weird, right? Feel like you were shitting yourself, maybe? She’s got long ass nails too, Lindsay, so that couldn’t have, uh, you mean-”  
  
“Just think about it, man.” Michael took a few steps backward, still facing him. “Stop worrying so much or whatever. ‘Cuz, y’know, I kind of figure that if a guy’s got something on his mind that much, maybe he’s more curious than he thinks. Maybe he should stop being a baby.”  
  
Jeremy leaned back against the wall, knees a little too unsteady.  
  
“Don’t be too far behind, man; we’ve got recording to do.”  
  
“Y-yeah.” Jeremy nodded and looked at the floor. “Gimme a sec. No big deal.”  
  
“Of course.” And, just like that, Michael was gone again, as if he hadn’t just ruined Jeremy’s mind in less than five minutes.  
  
It was...almost embarrassing how much Jeremy respected what people like Michael thought – and, by ‘people like him,’ he meant his coworkers in their little office. Though their family had grown little by little with each new hire, Jeremy still had a heavier level of respect for the people he’d watched making great entertainment while he was in college.  
  
Geoff. Jack. Ryan. Gavin. Michael. They were practically gods to younger Jeremy. Even when he started working with them, they hadn’t lost all of their shine. But Michael...there was something specifically about him that affected Jeremy more than he was willing to admit.  
  
He wanted Michael to like him. To respect him. To think that he was funny and that he was a hard worker. At the end of the day, even if Jeremy had the shittiest chain of events possible, just one halfway kind comment from Michael could make him float.  
  
Maybe that was why this dumb conversation hit him so hard. That _had_ to be it. Michael was _more_ than just a friend – he was a fucking role model to his younger self. And so his words carried a little more meaning than they would from anyone else.  
  
It wasn’t important. Just a silly talk. Just a joke taken a little further off camera. And that wasn’t a big deal. Jeremy could shake that off.  
  
He took a deep breath, centered himself, and started making his way back to the office, knowing with full confidence that he’d forget the entire conversation by tomorrow.  
  
~~  
  
Jeremy thought about nothing _but_ the conversation for seven days straight.  
  
It wasn’t just...wondering, necessarily, what it’d feel like. There was more to it than that. Why did the mere idea make him feel so grossed out? The more he thought about it, it wasn’t, like, he wouldn’t ever say a hard no to doing anal with _Kat_ \- not if they made sure to make themselves as clean as possible, whatever that ended up looking like – so what was it about doing it with himself that was so scary?  
  
He and Kat had the exact same butthole. They both shat out of it. If he was willing to say that he might be persuaded to stick a finger in her butt one day, then he needed to ask himself exactly why he was so unsure about the idea of _her_ sticking a finger in _his_ butt.  
  
“Baby? You okay?”  
  
Jeremy blinked and looked at the door. “What? Yeah, why?”  
  
Kat stood there, brow furrowed, mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown. “You tweeted that you were gonna stream at 7 o’clock.”  
  
He remembered doing that. He nodded.  
  
She blinked. “It’s seven-fifteen.”  
  
“No it isn’t.” He looked at his desktop. “Oh, shit, it is.”  
  
Kat made her way into the room and rubbed his shoulders up and down, her hands sliding to massage the tension out of his chest. He wore it all heavily – he always did – but even he was stunned at the amount of resistance his muscles gave her hands. “What’s wrong? You’ve been out of it all week. Are you not sleeping well?”  
  
Sleeping meant possibly thinking about anal sex in a much less fettered, inhibited environment. He had been doing it as little as possible for the past week. “I’ve just been stressed, that’s all.”  
  
“Do you wanna talk about it?”  
  
 _No, because if I talk about it, you’re gonna see how much of a fucking idiot I am – like, who the fuck even stresses about buttholes? They’re not all that cool. They’re not important. They’re just little holes to hell or whatever. There’s nothing good about them, and I hate them, and…_ The thoughts trailed off as she caught a particularly vicious knot in his trapezium, and he sighed, forcing himself to relax against the pain.  
  
He did this. Every time he was worried about something, his thoughts went to the furthest extreme. He could say all he wanted about it being a joke or a bit for a video or whatever, but it had been a habit since he was a teenager – and maybe it was a deeper part of him than he even realized.  
  
“Can I ask you a really weird question?”  
  
Kat hummed. “Go ahead, shoot.”  
  
“Would you...” He hated himself already. “...ever want to peg me?”  
  
Kat chuckled under her breath and lifted one of her hands, fingers sprawled out in front of his face. “Maybe when these babies aren’t so big.” She wiggled her freshly manicured nails, each of them practically a spike. His entire ass clenched at the mere thought. “I don’t know. Maybe.”  
  
Just like that, a wave of sullenness swept over him, and he sank into his chair with a huff. He couldn’t say why – he didn’t even know himself.  
  
“Baby. C’mon. Is this what you’ve been pouting about all week?”  
  
“I don’t pout,” he muttered in a very pouty way.  
  
“Okay, you totally don’t.” She didn’t sound very convinced. She gave up on the massage, letting her hands ground him by rubbing his chest, and he tried to focus on her touch rather than let all of the knots she’d destroyed come creeping back in. “Where did that even come from? You’ve never talked about it before.”  
  
Jeremy thudded his head back against her breasts – it was a well known fact that breasts were the most soothing pillow in the world. “Nothing. It was just something Michael said, I guess.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
He jerked his gaze up. “Oh, what?”  
  
She was already smiling and shaking her head. “Nothing! Just, I’m not surprised.”  
  
“About _Michael?!_ ” _Why is nobody surprised that Michael Jones might like having something up his ass?!_  
  
“No, I mean that...” She trailed off, biting her bottom lip, then crinkling her nose in a very familiar way. She was about to say something brutal, and she was already looking forward to his reaction. “...well, of _course_ if Michael was doing it, you’d wanna do it.”  
  
Jeremy felt his face contort in horror. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
“No idea, huh?”  
  
He looked away in self-preservation.  
  
“Do you think I forgot how you almost creamed your pants the first time you got to shake Michael’s hand? Jeremy, c’mon. I’ve been with you a long fucking time. I know what it looks like when you’ve got some hero worship going on.”  
  
“It’s not hero worship,” he whined.  
  
She kissed the top of his head. “Of course it’s not.”  
  
“It’s not!” Jeremy scooted his chair away from her, though he immediately felt the sting of his action. He buried his face in his hands, elbows slamming into the desk. “It’s...it’s not fucking hero worship, okay? He’s just a good guy. A good friend.”  
  
For a long moment, there was silence. And then she came forward and wrapped around him, holding him tightly from behind. He sank into her again. As brittle and weak and confused as he was, Kat was always good at making it all better.  
  
“Can I say something, and you try not to get mad at me?” Her lips moved against the top of his head, sweet and warm, and he hesitated before he nodded. “You admire him. I know you do. You light up when he talks to you. You get so excited when he wants to hang out with you – even if it’s just you, me, him, and Lindsay together for some Mario Party. You _thrive_ around him.”  
  
He didn’t respond.  
  
“Do you know what that sounds like?”  
  
 _Yes._ “No.”  
  
“Sounds an awful lot like how excited you used to get when you and I were getting to know each other for the first time.”  
  
He exhaled sharply. The roof crashed down above him, weighing him down until he hoped that it would crush him into the floor. “Kat...”  
  
“I’m not mad.” She kissed him three more times, over the column of his neck. “Shh. You’re not in trouble. It’s okay.”  
  
“It’s okay for a fucking married guy to have a crush on another married guy?” Jeremy barked a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, it’s fucking normal, is that it? Just two guys being dudes.”  
  
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying it’s not _bad_ for you to have a crush on him.”  
  
He turned his head, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “What do you mean? If it’s not you, it’s bad. Right?”  
  
For the first time, she looked hesitant about what she was saying. She pulled away an inch, but when he touched her arm she stayed close. “...it doesn’t make me mad. I don’t know why it doesn’t. Maybe because he’s a guy, and that makes him feel… _different_ than me. But all I know is that it isn’t something you should be upset about. And we can talk about it if you think it’ll give you some kind of closure, maybe.”  
  
“So it’s okay to just...want other people. Guys. Whatever.” Jeremy always challenged statements; he wasn’t sure if he’d ever stop. He had to know where the line in the sand was, even if he wasn’t going to approach it. “As long as I don’t _do_ anything with them, I can want them, is that what you’re saying?”  
  
“Maybe you can do things with them too,” Kat shot back. He’d forgotten – every time he flinched forward, she came right at him too. “I don’t know yet. How about you just ask me first if you’re ever thinking about it and we discuss it?”  
  
The wall slammed down in his head. He couldn’t move forward in the conversation. Just like with Michael, he found himself backed into a corner with no way of communicating how he was feeling – and so he shut it down. “Whatever. I’ve gotta stream.”  
  
She cupped his cheek. “Okay. But I mean it. Anytime, we can talk about this.”  
  
“Yep.” He turned away and looked at the screen. He knew it was cold. He knew he couldn’t do anything else. And Kat, the great blessing that she was, kissed his temple and squeezed his shoulders before she pulled away. He let her get all the way to the door before he swallowed hard. “Love you.”  
  
“I love you too, sweetie. Always have. Always will.”  
  
That warmed him. Even if he was fucking up the rest of his life, he knew that she was still there – his firm believer and his solid rock – and that meant he could do anything.  
  
~~  
  
Another week passed, fraught with thoughts and staring into space and forgetting to reply to questions the first time he heard them.  
  
It wasn’t that there was an issue, necessarily. It was that Jeremy had gone his entire life believing one very solid fact about himself – that he was straight – and here suddenly he was forced not only to question it, but to wonder what parts of his life it had shaped without him even noticing.  
  
Jeremy did gymnastics as a teenager, for example. He was damn good at it. His shorter frame made it easier for him to do certain stunts, and his thick muscles made his strength superior to many of the other guys who worked with him. He’d adored gymnastics, and some days he still felt the itch to do any number of tricks: flying through the air on rings, holding himself upside down with nothing but sheer force and bulging arms, and soaring into impressive flips on trampolines.  
  
He did, however, specifically remember guys at school giving him shit for it. How they’d chided him for being queer. How he’d taken on three of them at once, slamming them into lockers, and inevitably getting the shit beaten out of him when they got the better of him.  
  
He’d been so angry. Not even offended, just… _furious._ As if they were speaking a prediction about his entire life to him right in that deserted hallway. As if him embracing this agile, free, strong side of him was weird and disgusting. As if he couldn’t be happy and normal at the same time.  
  
He’d lashed out. He’d given them shit back. And then he’d sulked back into line. And, when he dropped gymnastics finally, he remembered that brief sensation of relief – that at least he wasn’t gonna have to be constantly on his guard anymore.  
  
Had he known then? Had he been aware enough, or was he still refusing to accept it? Had he known all along? Was that why he hadn’t even felt surprised at those words from Kat?  
  
Either way, there were a few questions remaining: did he feel that way about all guys, or just Michael? Was all of his hero worship just him refusing to admit that he had crushes on people? Or was Kat the one who was wrong, and maybe Jeremy _was_ straight?  
  
There wasn’t a lot of time to linger on it – not with his work schedule. He had to kick his own ass at work every day, then go home to stream a few days a week, then get ready to go to conventions and do this shit all over again. He was a public face now, just like he’d always fantasized about being, and that meant that whatever breakdown he might have was no doubt going to be public and heavily broadcast.  
  
He could only prepare for that so much.  
  
~~  
  
On Friday of that week, Michael came into the office bright and early, a Red Bull in hand and grunting at everyone who greeted him as he passed. He snagged a throw pillow off the couch, then weaved his way through their awkward setup to his desk, where he tossed the pillow in his chair.  
  
Jeremy tried not to look – he really did – but his gaze wandered anyway, and that was how he got to see the exact, precise way that Michael sat.  
  
First, he stared at the pillow with a grimace. Then, he set his Red Bull down on the desk and squeezed his hands around the armrests of the chair. And, finally, slowly – ever so slowly – he lowered himself down inch by inch until his ass made contact with the pillow. One more wince. A slight intake of breath. And then settled.  
  
Jeremy looked around, panic sparking in his chest. No one had looked up. No one had so much as noticed. No one was looking for something to tease or mock yet anyway – it was early, none of the cameras or mics were on, and every phone was still tucked in their pockets. He’d been the only one to notice.  
  
When he looked back at Michael, he was staring right at Jeremy.  
  
His heart skipped a beat, like it often did. He cleared his throat. “You okay, man?”  
  
“Sure.” Michael shrugged. “Why?”  
  
“Well, I-I, it just seemed like maybe it took you a little while to...like maybe it...uh...”  
  
As he struggled, Michael didn’t cut him off. But he _did_ wink. And then he looked away, waking up his computer and going through his daily routine of making sure all of his programs were open.  
  
And, like that, Jeremy knew every reason why Michael was being ginger with his ass.  
  
He stared at his monitor, not seeing a damn thing on it. His mind whirred, trying to load every thought he needed to get the day started. He couldn’t get his hands on them. He could barely even breathe.  
  
Geoff wandered in, two coffees in hand, and rubbing his eyes with his tattooed knuckles. “Everybody here? We’ve got a lot of shit to get done today.”  
  
A chorus of affirmations rang out as Geoff set the other coffee on Jack’s desk before heading toward his own, but Jeremy couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.  
  
He stood up, raking his nails over his short hair, and went straight for the door. Just before it shut behind him, he heard Geoff’s quiet “What’s eating him?”  
  
Jeremy burst outside as quickly as he could and took a deep breath of the cool air, hands knitting behind his neck as he paced back and forth. People saw him, but no one said a word – if anything, they hurried past him just a little faster. Interns. New employees. People Jeremy hadn’t even bothered to find out the names of, but who seemed to know him incredibly well just by looking at him.  
  
Did they know? Did everyone who looked at Jeremy know what he was struggling with?  
  
He remembered Kat – bright, beautiful Kat, the greatest love of his life that he’d ever known. He fixated on her. He drew strength from the mere mental image of her.  
  
He remembered what they hadn’t finished discussing – all because he’d been too afraid.  
  
He made a goal. That night, they were going to talk. They were going to see this whole thing through, no matter how scared he was. And he’d go to sleep with a new understanding of himself – God willing.  
  
~~  
  
Jeremy liked to believe that he was a strategist. He was a Slytherin, right? That kind of shit meant something to him. He was bold, but cunning, and he’d wait out the perfect opportunity to approach something so that it meant he was going to win.  
  
What he really had to accept was that he was a fucking coward.  
  
He made it through dinner with Kat. He played with their feline children. He watched Kat play video games for a few hours before they retired. And then – only then, when the lights were out and she was snuggled up to him, trying for a rare night of sleeping in the same bed – did he decide that it was the right time.  
  
“Can we talk about something real fast, or are you about to fall asleep immediately?”  
  
Kat hummed as she shifted, her hair tickling his neck. “No, I’m here. What’s up?”  
  
“The, uh...” He cleared his throat. “The thing we talked about last week.”  
  
Silence. “...thing.”  
  
“The Michael thing.”  
  
“Oh, yeah!” She thumbed over his stomach. “Yeah, totally. What’s up? Did something happen?”  
  
“No!” The defensiveness came naturally, and he huffed, forcing himself to take it down a notch. “I just...it’s been on my mind, okay? And I wanted to know if it was still something we could talk about or if you’d, like, changed your mind about it.”  
  
“About if you can want him?”  
  
This was the hardest thing to ask. He ran his hand up and down her back, grounding himself in the feel of her smooth skin and trying to believe that the rings they wore on their fingers weren’t just prizes from an arcade. They meant something. They meant a lifetime of commitment. They meant talking about shit and making compromises, as long as there was room to do so. But it also meant that they were still their own separate people, and that no matter what, they couldn’t force each other to do things.  
  
But he could ask. And so, ignoring the sting of acid on the back of his tongue, he did. “About if I could do something with him.”  
  
For a moment, nothing happened, but when she began to pull away his heart hammered in his chest. She leaned over and turned on the nightstand lamp, already frowning as she looked down at him. “What?”  
  
“That’s what you said, okay?” He couldn’t even look back at her anymore. This whole thing was a mistake. “Th-that if I wanted to do something with somebody I wanted, I could ask or whatever.”  
  
“And now you wanna do something with Michael?”  
  
“I don’t know!” He covered his face and growled into his palms. “I-I don’t know, Kat, I just, he...” He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe. “Listen, all I know is that I’m...curious about shit. Michael shit. Ass shit.”  
  
“Ass shit,” she drawled.  
  
“...poor choice of phrasing. He...he and Lindsay, they do pegging, right?” He dropped his hands and peeked up at her. “Have you ever put your fingers in a butt?”  
  
She shook her head, lips quirking right at the edges into a secret smile.  
  
“And God knows I’ve never put my fingers in a butt.” Even the thought still made something turn in his stomach – but the real question was if it was nerves or curiosity, and he still wasn’t sure. “So, like, if I wanna do butt stuff with my own butt, what’s the likelihood that you and me are gonna end up breaking my own ass because we’re stubborn or excited or whatever and go too fast? Like, what if I bleed, Kat? What if I can’t sit down for a week? What if for the rest of our lives there’s a giant blood spot on our goddamn sheets, and we’ll always know it’s from your nails ripping my anal glands open?”  
  
“I don’t think it works that way – the glands.”  
  
“Yeah, but you don’t know! _I_ don’t know!”  
  
She was grinning at him now, eyes sparkling, more beautiful than ever. But she wasn’t yelling. She wasn’t calling him a pervert or disgusting. She was just the same woman he’d loved and married, looking at him with the fondness that always fascinated him and made him wonder what she even saw when she looked at him.  
  
He took a deep breath. “I...I wanted to know if I could ask if I could watch Michael finger himself or something.”  
  
Kat sat against the headboard, and he pulled himself up too, pressing their legs together. “...just fingering, huh?”  
  
“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”  
  
“You know what it means.” She touched his thigh and squeezed, then patted it firmly. “I know you. I know what your little looks mean. I know your tones. And I know that right now, you’ve got the look of a guy who isn’t saying the whole truth.”  
  
 _Shit, I hate it when she does that._ He crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever. You can’t do that. That’s a lie.”  
  
She smiled. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then brushed her eyelashes against his temple. “You ready for me to blow your mind?”  
  
His stomach fluttered again. “Maybe.”  
  
“Yeah, if he’s okay with it, and if Lindsay’s okay with it, you can go over and watch him shove fingers in his own ass.”  
  
“Are you fucking serious?” Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined she might actually agree.  
  
She chuckled. “And, if you want, and if _they_ want...you can even do more than that with him.”  
  
He looked at her, eyes wide and mouth open. “What the fuck is going on? You’re giving me permission to fuck Michael Jones?”  
  
Kat chewed on her bottom lip and looked away.  
  
“...you’re gonna stay here and get off to the thought of me fucking Michael Jones, aren’t you?”  
  
“I don’t have to answer that.” She poked him in the side, then wiggled away before he could retaliate, giggling. “Dude, it’s fine. It’s not even a big deal.”  
  
“It’s a huge deal!” Jeremy’s voice cracked. “Who the hell tells their husband they can go fuck one of their friends?”  
  
“Hey. I had friends in college in open relationships. It’s not as weird as you think it is.”  
  
That was new. People did this? People lived this way? Not just doing little one offs with each other? That didn’t make any fucking sense. He stared at her in wonder.  
  
She patted his cheek. “Don’t look so shocked. Just...listen, though, I need you to make me a promise.”  
  
“Anything,” he breathed – fuck being cunning right now, especially if his wife was giving him more freedom than most people ever had in their marriages.  
  
“Not...not anything with Lindsay yet. Just Michael.”  
  
He blinked. He wouldn’t lie and say that he’d never checked her out before, but he hadn’t even conceived the idea of doing anything with her. “...yet?”  
  
Kat smiled, but her eyelashes fluttered in that nervous tic that she had. “It’s one thing if it’s a guy or whatever. But if it’s a girl, I-I just...” She shook her head. “Call me self-conscious, but I’ve gotta think about it for a little while longer.”  
  
She had this whole other side of him that he didn’t even know. He couldn’t comprehend it. She had friends who did this, and he’d never heard about it except for using swingers as a joke. It was fucking ridiculous. But, because he hated that she was so nervous, he reached and cupped her face with both hands, thumbing over her cheeks. “Hey. You know you’re the woman I married for a reason, right?” He smiled at her. “Nobody gets me like you do. No one’ll ever see or know the man I am when I’m with you – because I know I can be every part of myself, and you’ll never talk down to me for it. I’m not looking for excuses to leave you behind. You’ve gotta understand that. I love you.”  
  
She nodded and took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a long moment. “I love you too.” When she opened them again, she was grinning, and her expression was more peaceful than he’d seen in ages. “You’re everything to me. I hope you know that.”  
  
“You too.” He kissed her nose.  
  
After rubbing their noses together, Kat pulled away. “Now, you’re gonna hate me, but I already know I’m gonna have to go to the other room to get some sleep now that we’ve both got so much on our minds...”  
  
“Hey, do what you need to do, okay?” They were such active sleepers that it was a wonder they _ever_ managed to sleep in the same bed. “Just as long as you remember how much I love you.”  
  
She beamed at him, gave a little wave, then disappeared into the hallway.  
  
It was all well and good that she went to sleep in the guest bedroom, really, because he didn’t sleep a fucking wink for the rest of the night.  
  
~~  
  
Running on nothing but coffee the next day definitely made everything seem a little more fluid. He didn’t get jittery from lack of sleep, and too much caffeine never hyped him up. It meant that when they were filming an episode where Michael thoroughly murdered Jeremy in less than two seconds of a solo match, he headdesked for the facecam and then leaned so close to the microphone that he could drop his voice to a murmur.  
  
“Hey. Hey, Michael. When do I get to come over and watch you go fuck yourself?”  
  
Gavin squawked in glee, and Geoff was already gearing up to tell some story – maybe even the same one he told on Off Topic – but all that Jeremy registered was Michael’s response: “Anytime, man, when are you free?”  
  
It stuck with him. He gave a piss poor showing in the rest of the video, and then as soon as they stopped their cameras, his legs immediately got the itch to run.  
  
But before he could, he glanced over. Michael was watching him – just as closely as he ever had. And, when he slowly got to his feet and made a comment about grabbing another soda, Jeremy watched him back the entire way to the door.  
  
Right there, Michael gave a single glance over his shoulder, and then he disappeared into the hallway.  
  
 _It’s now or never, man. He doesn’t have to know about the specifics or whatever. He never has to know about the fucking crush. But if there’s anybody out there who isn’t gonna get freaked out by somebody watching him do anything, it’s Michael._  
  
Jeremy took two deep, steeling breaths. If it was meant for him to go now, there’d be a sign, and-  
  
“Oh, what! Geoff, look at my screen! What’s that mean!”  
  
The high-pitched panic of Gavin drew first Geoff, then Ryan in for technical difficulties, and Jeremy rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs before he stood up. He couldn’t hope for a better fucking sign than that in this company.  
  
He went into the hallway, preparing for a long hunt for Michael – maybe even missing him entirely if they took two different ways to and from the kitchen – but when he shut the door, he saw Michael leaning against the wall behind it. He popped his chin at Jeremy, face perfectly neutral, then pushed off the wall and started down the hall.  
  
Helpless to do anything else, Jeremy followed with his heart in his throat.  
  
They didn’t speak. Jeremy walked a few feet behind him, as if it wasn’t _completely_ obvious that he was tailing him, and no one stopped them or called out as they walked. Michael disappeared around a corner – one that led right toward where they’d started this entire weird discussion – and when Jeremy caught up to him, glancing around to make sure no one had followed, his breath hitched when Michael touched his arm.  
  
Michael guided him toward the wall and put him against it, slow but firm, then took a few steps back and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
Jeremy stared. Only when it was apparent that Michael wasn’t going to start the conversation did he take a deep breath. “I-I wasn’t kidding. In the recording.”  
  
“Oh, I know you weren’t.” Finally Michael’s lips quirked, and his shoulders began to shake as he barely held back a laugh. “That was something else, Lil’ J – is that how you ask all dudes about anal?”  
  
“Shut up. God.” Jeremy covered his face and groaned into his palms. “It’s...I’m curious, okay? That’s all it is. Kat and I started talking about...about _it,_ but-”  
  
“About what?”  
  
 _Oh God._ “You know what about.”  
  
“You should say it so we don’t have any misunderstanding, don’t you think?”  
  
“I think I should pick you up and shove you in a garbage can.”  
  
Michael laughed, bright and sunshiny, and when Jeremy’s cheeks flushed behind his hands he knew that he was a fucking goner. “You can try it.”  
  
Those four words. They called back to that moment on Off Topic when Jeremy knew shit was about to get real. They made his knees just a little bit weaker. _How the fuck am I about to say this?_ He shook his head, then dropped his hands, eyes closed and head tilted back. “Listen, I just wanna see a professional butt lover show me how to do some butt stuff safely and cleanly.”  
  
“So you’re not interested in the shit part-”  
  
“Don’t ever speak to me again.”  
  
Michael laughed again and startled him when he clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’ve got you. No problem. This weekend okay?”  
  
It couldn’t be that easy. Jeremy chanced a look at him. As impossible as Michael was to read, he hoped and prayed that for this one moment, he could understand what was going on in his head. “I-I just...want to make sure you know for once and for all that I’m not joking. And that you can prank me if you want, but it’d be really fucking shitty of you, and...” It had to be said. “...and no cameras or stories ever.”  
  
They all knew the rules. Stories were up for telling on podcasts and video only with consent, and a prank wasn’t as funny if they didn’t have a video to put up for the fans to laugh at. He expected that Michael would wave it off and tell him to forget it, but...but he didn’t. Instead he nodded, as serious as could be, and held Jeremy’s gaze. “No prank. No camera. No story. As far as anybody knows, this weekend won’t even happen.”  
  
Jeremy nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. “And, uh, and Kat says Lindsay can’t be there either.”  
  
“Well, of fucking course she’s not gonna be there.” Michael rolled his eyes. “...Kat… _is_ okay with it, though?”  
  
“Yeah. Promise.”  
  
“Okay.” He lifted a hand, like he was going to touch Jeremy. It hung between them in the air for a long moment before Michael rubbed the back of his own neck instead as he began to back up. “Saturday. Seven o’clock. See you at my place.”  
  
And, just like that, it was over. It was planned out, and somehow Jeremy hadn’t even gotten his ass kicked. He nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good, man.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Michael disappeared again, heading toward the kitchen, and Jeremy rubbed his overheated cheeks, trying to come back down to planet Earth.  
  
This weekend wasn’t going to be weird. It just wasn’t. He’d be fine.  
  
~~  
  
He’d come to Michael and Lindsay’s house before – it wasn’t a weird occurrence by any stretch of the means – but this was the first time he’d carefully considered what he was going to wear for the evening. Earlier that afternoon he’d reached for a beer, and Kat had plucked it out of his hands, given him a quick pop kiss, and put it right back in the fridge. The language was clear: _You’re going into this sober, and you’re not taking any shortcuts either._  
  
It didn’t matter that he told Kat how there wouldn’t be any hanky panky going on – as far as they’d agreed, Jeremy would only be observing Michael doing things to himself and maybe asking questions. Kat just patted his cheek and smiled and shook her head as if she knew something that he didn’t.  
  
Maybe she did. It sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time.  
  
 _Have fun,_ Kat had said. Like this was normal. Maybe to her it was. But Jeremy already felt like a dead man walking as he made his way up to the front porch. He paused. Took a deep breath. And then he knocked.  
  
Michael opened the door faster than seemed possible, like he’d been waiting right behind it. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” Jeremy shifted his weight. “What’s up?”  
  
Michael gave him a look.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Just, uh...” This was already going perfectly. “Nothing.” Jeremy shook his head. “Can I come in or whatever?”  
  
“Sure.” Michael stepped aside and Jeremy eased in. His elbow brushed Michael’s side, and his entire arm lit up with tingles. That wasn’t fair at all. “You know where the living room is.”  
  
 _We’re doing this in the living room?_ On one hand, it made sense – getting in a bed to watch this happen seemed a little less platonic than Jeremy wanted the entire experience to come across as – but he couldn’t imagine it happening on a couch either. What was Michael going to be perching on? Maybe he’d be on the floor.  
  
Before he could think himself into an anxious corner, Jeremy squared up and strode to the living room, chin high and shoulders thrown back.  
  
Michael snorted behind him. Jeremy didn’t even have to ask why.  
  
The living room was set up a little differently than Jeremy expected. Half of it looked perfectly normal, and the other half was set up awkwardly: a beach towel spread across one of the cushions, a tall bottle of lube with a pump-top on the coffee table, a handful of condoms gleaming next to the bottle, and a thin but long dildo standing just as proudly.  
  
Jeremy stopped dead in the doorway and stared at the dildo. _Okay. This is happening. This is really happening._  
  
Michael cleared his throat from right behind him. “You want some chips or something? Some water?”  
  
Jeremy made himself look over his shoulder. This close, the golden flecks in Michael’s brown eyes shone in the gleam from the television. “...a-are you really offering me snacks right now? What are you, Suzy Homemaker?”  
  
Michael scowled, his lips thinning as he glared at him. “Fuck you, man, I’m just being hospitable or whatever.” This time when he pushed past Jeremy their shoulders knocked together, like two guys squaring up to fight, and Jeremy took a moment to catch his footing.  
  
Michael was sheepish. It was written plain as day on his face and his awkward words. He was flustered as hell. _Huh._ That was the last thing Jeremy had been expecting.  
  
 _What’s he so flustered about? Me?_  
  
That was impossible. Michael was unshakeable. He was a force of nature, plunging straight into every situation like a bull in a china shop. He flinched forward every goddamn time. What was it about Jeremy that could shake him up like that?  
  
 _You know what._  
  
But he didn’t want to give the thought more focus than it needed to have when he didn’t have any confirmation, and so he swallowed it down and sauntered after him.  
  
His gaze landed on the television, and he breathed a laugh. “Are you serious? Porn?” A freeze frame of what was unmistakably a woman stripped down to her underwear and a guy pushing the hair out of her face as he leaned in for a kiss stared back at him from the screen.  
  
“Y’know, gotta set the mood or whatever so it isn’t awkward.” Michael’s belt clinked as he worked at it – apparently he was going to do this regardless of whether Jeremy was ready or not. Jeremy hurried to sit on the couch, a cushion of safety between him and where the towel was spread out. “What, you didn’t do this in high school?”  
  
It took Jeremy’s brain a moment to catch up. He was too busy staring at the long fingers of Michael’s broad hands and how quickly they were doing away with the belt. “...wh-what, watch porn with guys?”  
  
Michael shrugged.  
  
“No, that, uh, that wasn’t exactly on my priority list.”  
  
“You were missing out.” Michael pulled his zipper down and unbuttoned his jeans, then let them fall to his ankles. “It wasn’t weird or whatever. Just...interesting. Informative.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
Michael met his gaze finally. “You learn a lot about a guy by how he gets himself off and the porn he likes to watch. The guys that watched the really violent shit...nah, they weren’t gonna be my bros. The guys that liked watching the girls actually have a good time were okay.”  
  
“Oh.” Jeremy’s voice was at the edge of cracking. How could Michael discuss this so easily, as if he wasn’t in one of his t-shirts from Geoff’s collection and a pair of Achievement Hunter boxers? Why had he fucking themed this? Was this not weird to him?  
  
“And the guys who wanted to put on gay porn for some laughs...” Michael didn’t look away, staring straight into Jeremy’s soul. “Well. They were jackasses. But the guys that got hard from it and weren’t laughing were cool.”  
  
Realization set in. Jeremy forced himself to hold Michael’s eyes when he replied. “I only watched gay porn once, but, uh, I may have been the latter.”  
  
Michael immediately smirked. “May?”  
  
“High school was weird, man.”  
  
Michael chuckled. “Sure.” He tugged the shirt off, his curls flopping, and rested a hand on his stomach absently – the one with his wedding ring on.  
  
Jeremy gulped. “Where’s Lindsay anyway?”  
  
“Out with Gavin and Meg.” Michael tilted his head to the side. “She’s not gonna be home ‘til super fucking late or whatever.”  
  
 _So we’re alone all night. Okay. That’s fine._ He’d prepared for that – hoped for it, really – but that was before he’d seen Michael looking so utterly unbothered by the fact that Jeremy was watching him strip down. He scratched at the denim on his thighs and swallowed hard, feeling his heart thud against his ribs.  
  
“Last chance to back out.” Michael flashed him a smile, quirking an eyebrow, his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers.  
  
He’d left it wide open for Jeremy to make a joke or start bantering – anything – but instead he sat a little straighter and nodded. “Nah. Go ahead.”  
  
Michael froze. A flush spread across his chest, inching up toward his neck. “...you’re sure? We’re really doing this?”  
  
Jeremy forced himself to shrug as nonchalantly as he could. “I mean, it’s just me watching you fuck yourself in the ass, right? Like, what’s the issue?”  
  
Silence. Michael’s jaw went tight, and Jeremy’s gaze stayed firmly on his face. And then Michael slid his boxers down, and Jeremy capitulated, looking straight at his dick.  
  
Something itched at his palms – an itch that turned into a searing burn – and he slouched back down, lips parting. If he hadn’t known he was attracted to dicks before now, he felt the solid confirmation settle nervously in his gut. There was Michael’s cock, looking as average and unremarkable as Jeremy’s, already half hard and thick with veins, and every cell in Jeremy’s body ached.  
  
He forced himself to look away.  
  
Neither of them spoke as Michael kicked his pile of clothes sloppily behind him, then passed too close by Jeremy to get to the couch without bumping his knees on the coffee table. For a second it felt like they might make contact for a third, distracting time, and Jeremy’s body ached in anticipation – and then relaxed when nothing happened. He stared at the same spot on the carpet as Michael sat on the towel, then shifted around.  
  
He was getting a better position, Jeremy realized: his back against the couch arm, one knee pointing at the ceiling, and the other leg sprawled out on the floor. He could only imagine how exposed Michael looked right now.  
  
“Well, c’mon.” Michael reached for the lube, and Jeremy tried not to track him out of the corner of his eye. His voice shook with the edge of a giggle. “You’re here to watch, right? What’re you waiting for? You can’t back out now. I already said.”  
  
 _He wants you to look. Otherwise there was no fucking reason to come here. Do it. Fucking do it. Stop being a goddamn coward._  
  
He took a deep breath. And he turned his head.  
  
“There we go.” Michael smirked at him, like he wasn’t smearing lube all over his fingers. “Fuck, you make a guy feel like he’s just wasting his time or whatever.”  
  
Jeremy shook his head. “Sorry. Felt, uh...felt weird or whatever.”  
  
“Why? You’ve got permission to watch me.” He didn’t blink even as he started to rub his slick index finger over his hole. “Is it too quiet? Do I need to turn the porn on so it’s not so-”  
  
“This is fine.” The words spilled out, too hard and fast, and he wished he could suck them back in. But he couldn’t. Here they were, just two guys hanging out, one of them about to fuck himself and the other afraid to look away for even a second.  
  
“Yeah?” There was a curve to Michael’s tone. He’d heard it before in videos, but here it felt a little too intimate. Warm. Rough.  
  
Jeremy licked his lips. “...yeah.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Forcing himself to look between Michael’s legs, Jeremy felt the first full surge of anxiety rack through him. He hadn’t been lying – buttholes were still weird as fuck – but just like his cock throbbed every time he watched Kat finger herself for him with a knowing smirk, watching one of Michael’s fingers disappear inside himself made Jeremy’s blood pump faster.  
  
The quiet, only broken by the slick sounds as Michael worked a digit in and out of himself, ratcheted up the tension right under his skin. He couldn’t breathe. His cheeks went hot and his muscles tightened and he waited for that first treacherous twinge from inside of his pants.  
  
And then Michael let out a breathy sigh, eyelashes fluttering, and it came – the knowing ache of his cock hardening so fast that it took him by surprise.  
  
“Can you tell me what it feels like?” Jeremy asked, desperate for a distraction.  
  
“Feels like a finger in my ass,” Michael shot back. He bit his bottom lip, thrusting his finger deeper and deeper with each move of his wrist, like he had to concentrate on every minute moment of the sensation or else miss something entirely. Was it that hard? Or was he just feeling awkward about being watched?  
  
The flush on his chest and neck tinged his cheeks now, warming his freckles. Maybe it wasn’t about feeling awkward at all.  
  
“There’s more to it than that, though, right?” Something about the air between them made him lower his voice into something warm and lush – like he’d talk to Kat when he was rubbing her slick folds. Michael’s eyes slid shut, his mouth dropping open and his head tipping back. “Otherwise you wouldn’t even wanna do it. So tell me what it feels like, Michael.”  
  
Michael’s forehead wrinkled as he lifted his brows, the air skittering and shaking as he exhaled. And though his eyes were still shut behind his glasses, Jeremy ached to stare into them – to see if his pupils were thick with arousal and if he wanted to look at Jeremy just as badly. “...stretch. There’s a stretch.”  
  
“Yeah?” Jeremy tilted his head to the side and glanced back down at his fingers. With only one finger inside of him, it barely looked like a stretch at all – but maybe he was right. Jeremy tried to imagine something pressing him open, scissoring him until his muscles started to get with the program and loosen up. “How’s it feel on your finger?”  
  
“Oh fuck, dude, it’s like all my circulation’s being cut off.” The words were dry and honest, and Jeremy couldn’t help but chuckle. Michael slid his finger slowly out of him, then went for the lube again, pumping even more onto his hand. “You’ve gotta take it slow to start off, okay? It...it feels good, but...in, like, that _challenging_ way. The way where you’ve gotta push yourself until you can get to where you feel satisfied.”  
  
It sounded a hell of a lot like gymnastics – like pushing his body to the brink, through pain and torture, until he was able to drop into the splits for the first time, every part of his legs and crotch flush with the ground even as his thighs trembled. Maybe there was something to all of this ass stuff after all.  
  
“Anyway, then there’s the prostate.”  
  
Jeremy blinked. “Is it, like, a pleasure button or whatever?”  
  
“Hell no,” Michael said with a snort, then seemed to reconsider. His breath hitched as he slid two fingers inside of himself this time. “Well. Maybe for some people. But it’s kind of just like...way too much fucking sensation, y’know? Sort of feels like you’ve gotta take a piss sometimes. It’s not like touching your dick or your balls or your nips or whatever.”  
  
Jeremy tried not to register the fact that Michael apparently had sensitive nipples. He failed.  
  
“It’s something else completely.” He shifted around, slouching even more, his cock hard and curved so it rested on his stomach. A drop of precum smeared on his skin before he started working his fingers with a little more urgency. “It’s...I can’t even really describe it. You’ll know it when you feel it.”  
  
Made sense. Otherwise anybody with a prostate would be popping a boner during their exams. From what he knew, most of them just felt weird about the whole thing. Maybe they never got to feel whatever that mythical sensation was anywhere else and didn’t know how to understand it.  
  
For once, he couldn’t wait to know what it felt like. He’d probably have to use all of his and Kat’s last bottle of lube just to find it, but he was determined now.  
  
“Is it...hard to find?” Jeremy asked.  
  
Michael thought about this hard, eyes opening and looking at the ceiling. He finally shook his head. “Nah. Once, like...once I knew where it was, I could find it every time without a problem.”  
  
“Lindsay too?”  
  
The quiet moan surprised Jeremy, and he dug his nails into his jeans as Michael’s lips quirked in a smirk. “She’s better at it than I am. Fuck.”  
  
This was dangerous territory. Watching Michael fuck himself was one thing. Thinking about Michael with his legs pulled up to his chest and quietly whining while Lindsay teased him with her own fingers was something else entirely. But the image was there now, and as much as Jeremy tried to chase it away with a broom, he was left contemplating it and wondering if Lindsay ever made Michael beg.  
  
 _Would he beg for me too?_  
  
Jeremy surged back into the present when he realized Michael was watching him again. “What?” Jeremy asked, afraid he might’ve missed something.  
  
Michael’s gaze flicked over his face. “...wanna see what happens when I find it?”  
  
God, he did. He nodded and leaned forward to see him better. Anticipation wracked through him, leaving him tense and desperate.  
  
Michael made him wait just for a few seconds. He could see it in the way that he slowed the thrusting of his fingers to something slow and sensual, his skin glistening and the muscles around his hole clenching around them. And then, just when Jeremy was ready to ask if something was wrong, Michael gasped. His abs tightened. His cock lurched, slicking his stomach even more. And Jeremy knew right then and there that he’d never forget the shivery moan that came right after.  
  
“Shit,” Jeremy whispered.  
  
Michael nodded. He bit his mouth closed, the tendons in his hand leaping as he worked at his prostate. He held his breath.  
  
Jeremy couldn’t even blink. “Do...do you ever touch yourself when you do that?”  
  
Like a whip, Michael’s other hand flew up and wrapped around his cock, and he gasped raggedly as he began to jerk himself off slowly – more like a tease than anything that would give him any real relief.  
  
“Jesus, you do this all the time, don’t you?” Jeremy shook his head in wonder. “You edge yourself like this.”  
  
“You will too. Just...just trust me.”  
  
 _Are you thinking about me doing that?_ Still too cowardly to ask. But damn, did he consider it.  
  
As if he could only take a few seconds of teasing, Michael let go of his cock and reached for the dildo. His eyes were glossy – distant, focused, and lost – and he wiped his slick hand on the towel before he ripped a condom packet open. Once he tugged it on the dildo, fresh lube was applied.  
  
“Isn’t it yours?” Jeremy blinked. “Why the condom?”  
  
“Just cleaner that way, dude, trust me.” Michael looked at him as he rubbed the head of the dildo over his entrance, his wrist turned just so. “You learning a lot? Ready for the test later?”  
  
He should’ve told him to shut up and laughed about it. But all he did was nod, enraptured with the sight of Michael’s abs clenching when he began to fuck himself with the dildo. In, out, slow and sure and careful, like he was going to do it for hours.  
  
Michael practically panted with the depth of each thrust. Sweat beaded over his forehead, and he grabbed a handful of the towel under him with his other hand as his toes began to curl. More fascinating than anything, his cock lurched with every move he made.  
  
“That the, uh, prostate?”  
  
“It’s fucking amazing, man,” Michael whispered.  
  
Jeremy believed him with every fiber of his being. The results were impossible to ignore – especially when he was hard as nails in his jeans with a shot of adrenaline settled in his brain.  
  
“It’s...it’s hot, anyway, like...”  
  
Jeremy leaned forward again. “What is?”  
  
Michael squeezed his eyes shut. He turned his head, hand slowing when the dildo was buried deep inside of him, and he gasped for a few quiet seconds before he spat out the words. “You. You watching. It’s pretty fucking hot.”  
  
Jeremy’s heart stopped in his chest. His mind went offline, then rebooted rapidly, neurons firing off and making new pathways to try and digest this confusing but important information. Michael looked at him, all fiery challenge in his gaze, daring him to say it.  
  
Jeremy took a deep breath. “...can...can all I do is watch, or is there more that I could…?”  
  
Silence. And then Michael pulled the slick dildo out of him slowly before offering it to Jeremy.  
  
 _Holy shit, this is happening._ Jeremy puffed up, trying to hide his own nerves, and took it; their fingers brushed on the handle, sending sparks through his hand. But then Michael pulled away, grabbing the towel with both hands. “You sure?”  
  
“Just do it.” Michael lifted his chin. “Want you to do it.” He was brash and forceful when he said the words – just like always – but there was something else that he wasn’t saying.  
  
“Lindsay.” Jeremy said her name almost pleadingly.  
  
“She’s cool with it. She’s fucking cool. There’s, listen, there’s literally a permission slip in the kitchen, like, I-I’ll fucking get it for you if you want, but we talked about it – about you – and how it was fine and cool and shit.” He was rambling, but it was endearing, and something about it – about how desperate Michael suddenly was – was all the confirmation Jeremy needed.  
  
He slid forward, steadying himself with one foot on the ground and his bent leg between both of Michael’s, and then hesitated as he reached out. Deep breath...and he touched Michael’s hip.  
  
His skin was hot under Jeremy’s hand, his hip bone sharp enough to cut his palm. He focused on the shape of him – on the figure that Jeremy still found himself envying sometimes, even after he’d started falling in love with his own body once again – as he guided the dildo forward. He pressed it against him. There was a little more resistance than he was familiar with when he fucked Kat with a toy, but Michael took a deep breath and seemed to sink into the couch, and suddenly the dildo began to slide back inside of him.  
  
“Yeah.” Michael nodded, the word whispered and barely there. “Yeah, do it. C’mon.”  
  
Jeremy dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He almost wanted to make himself bleed – to taste the copper and know that this was really happening. It was all a dream. A fantasy. There was no way in hell that Michael fucking Jones was letting him fuck him with a dildo.  
  
But here they were – Jeremy fully clothed and Michael naked and stretched out beneath him, like a weird power struggle that he’d never imagined winning. Why would he? He was broad and squirrely, but even though he had the width advantage on Michael, he knew that the other man was a fucking relentless tank who wouldn’t let up until he was satisfied. If anything, the difference between their size, Jeremy’s thick arms against Michael’s more slender ones, would make him _more_ determined to put Jeremy under him.  
  
Jeremy liked this. He did. But suddenly his mind was aflutter with new, curious fantasies.  
  
 _What would it be like if he held me down?_  
  
As Jeremy started the slow fucking pace that Michael had set first, Michael let out a sharp moan and tensed his thighs. They trembled for just a second, and he watched them in fascination. “Incredible,” he whispered.  
  
“Yeah?” Michael peeked up at him, eyebrows still lifted and eyes wide behind his glasses.  
  
“Yeah...”  
  
They stared at each other for a long moment before the challenge in his gaze came back. “So- _fuck,_ so where is this going?” Michael panted, eyelashes fluttering.  
  
Jeremy was too focused on the minutia of his body – the dusky color of his nipples and the freckles that he hadn’t ever paid much attention to when he was close enough to see them – to comprehend the question. “...wh-what?”  
  
“Like, am I, is this...” Like every word pained him, Michael took a sharp breath, then tried again. “You want me to come or will that freak you out?”  
  
It absolutely was going to freak him out, and he didn’t care – he wanted to see anyway. “Do _you_ wanna come?”  
  
“Fuck yeah.” He spat the words, sharp and crisp – like home – and nodded furiously. “God, yeah, I wanna come for you, Jeremy, just, just...”  
  
“Can you get off without being touched?”  
  
Michael chuckled breathily. A drop of sweat dripped down his temple. “So that’s your kink, huh?”  
  
Was that a kink? Jeremy couldn’t even use his brain to figure it out right now. He picked up the pace of his wrist, going deeper and harder, in lieu of a response.  
  
“Shit-” Michael’s fists trembled against the towel, and then he let go, arm moving in a flash, hand wrapping around his cock.  
  
If this was a porn, Jeremy would probably hold his arm down and make him ask to touch, but right now he was way over his head. There was slick lube dripping down the dildo and coating his fingers. The hand on Michael’s hip kept slipping with the rocking of his body, so Jeremy adjusted his grip by touching Michael’s thigh and pressing his legs open further still. Michael was flushed, damp with sweat, and looking like he was in the middle of the heaviest workout of his life.  
  
Realization struck him: Michael was tense and flushed from holding himself back.  
  
“Stop it, stop holding back.”  
  
Michael’s eyes flew open. He didn’t question him. He just tilted his head to the side.  
  
“You’re...if you’re louder than this, be fucking loud, dude.” Jeremy recognized the edge of his tone – that he was almost pleading – and his legs got that sharp surge of adrenaline again. “I-I wanna see you, for real.”  
  
Michael sat up an inch, hand moving out, then stopped in midair. Hesitation bled into him touching Jeremy’s side right at the hem of his shirt that was riding up, where there was a dangerous gap between his waistband and his top. As if he had anchored himself, he let out a sharp sound – more like a whine than a moan – and began rolling his hips, fucking himself down and meeting Jeremy in the middle with each move of his wrist.  
  
Jeremy’s mind short circuited. _His balls literally just touched my hand. I could touch his dick every time he fucks down if I reached up just a little bit. His cock just moved when we made contact and I didn’t even go anywhere near it. He’s squeezing my waist like it’s the only thing keeping him alive._  
  
He had no idea what was happening anymore. They were moving together, Michael was letting out the most incredible sounds Jeremy had ever heard come out of his mouth, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to lean down and kiss him right there and see what those moans felt like against his lips-  
  
 _Oh God, what the fuck am I doing? How deep am I right now? How the hell do I get out?_  
  
This wasn’t according to plan. None of it was. He was supposed to see something, figure out how it would work for him, then get out, not have his chest aching just from the sight of Michael barely holding himself together.  
  
 _I’m so fucked._  
  
“Fuck...” Michael came to a rigid stop suddenly, hips arched off the couch, his hand moving at a breakneck pace over his cock. “Shit, Jeremy, I’m gonna come-”  
  
“Please.” He couldn’t hold the word back. Terrified as he was, knowing he’d just fucked up this friendship without even trying, he still couldn’t tear his eyes away.  
  
That was all it took. One word, and Michael threw his head back and cried out, moving his hand so he could come into his palm. He squeezed his eyes shut, his whole chest and face flushed red, and as Michael’s thighs shook around Jeremy’s arm, he pulled the dildo out and sat back and pressed his other fist to his mouth to keep himself held together.  
  
It didn’t work. The second Michael dropped boneless back onto the couch and tried to catch his breath, Jeremy dropped the dildo and stood up.  
  
“Hey.” Michael reached out with his other hand, but the slickness of the remaining lube made Jeremy flinch away. “Hey, no, hold on, wait a second, lemme get myself cleaned up here.”  
  
Jeremy crossed his arms tightly over his chest, shivering, staring despite himself as Michael quickly wiped his hands on the towel and then wrapped the dildo up in it. Michael practically rolled off the couch as he went for his boxers, then pulled them and his shirt on quickly before he held both hands up, as dry as he could get them.  
  
“You’re not gonna run, are you?” Michael took a step forward, and Jeremy forced himself not to step back. It worked out – Michael was only reaching for the remote and turning the channel. Jeremy glanced over his shoulder and realized he’d changed over to a game system, and that Netflix had just filled the screen. “We only just started hanging out, dude. Chill. I can make us some snacks. We can just hang out, watch a movie.”  
  
Jeremy exhaled shakily. This was okay. He knew what Michael was doing. He wasn’t making Jeremy talk about his little freak out – about the fact that all he wanted to do was get the fuck out of the house and throw himself in Kat’s lap and pretend this never happened. How long could he pretend now? That he was straight, that he didn’t give a shit about Michael, that he wasn’t curious about if he somehow had the ability to explore it without ruining shit in either his marriage or Michael’s marriage or even this friendship…  
  
He didn’t think he could hold that ruse for very long.  
  
“Sorry,” Jeremy managed to mumble as he looked down at his hands. They were sticky now. “...need to, uh, wash my hands.”  
  
“Yeah, me too.” Michael thumbed over his shoulder as he backed toward the hall. “You know where the bathroom is. I’m gonna go to the kitchen and get some drinks. Just meet me back here and we’ll pick out a movie, okay?”  
  
Jeremy nodded. He didn’t look at him as he left, and he waited just long enough for Michael to leave the hallway before he stepped into it himself and headed straight for the bathroom.  
  
~~  
  
Michael was good at pretending shit didn’t happen, it turned out. Stubborn as he was, he didn’t hesitate to shove a bowl of chips between them and open a couple of sodas and turn on a mindless action movie. As much as Jeremy craved some beer or liquor – anything to forget – something kept him from asking.  
  
They didn’t talk. They watched the movie, not even riffing over it. The bowl kept them safely separated, like a landmine that would explode if either of them got too close to it.  
  
Eventually they triggered it: they reached into the bowl at the same time, their hands touched, and they locked eyes. And Jeremy knew there was no escaping this anymore.  
  
He could be sly and he could be clever, or he could be honest with himself and say that someone like Michael was impossible to get a one-up on. Michael didn’t _do_ sly. He charged straight ahead, and if they both sat here talking in their own respective languages for the rest of the night – or not talking at all – they’d never get anywhere. So Jeremy could pretend that nothing happened...or he could come over to Michael’s side of the fence, because he was sure as hell that they wouldn’t be meeting on his side without Jeremy talking the both of them into a corner.  
  
He took a deep breath and let it out. “So is it different with a real dick?”  
  
Michael’s brows skyrocketed. It took him a moment to lean over and pause the movie, settling them both in thick silence. “...well, I wouldn’t know, really. I’m sure it is. I’ll probably find out someday.”  
  
There was a lot of heavy meaning in those three sentences. He swallowed hard. “Yeah? You think you will?” A pause. “Lindsay lets you play? Not just let somebody else watch you?”  
  
Michael moved the bowl to the coffee table seamlessly as he turned to face him, sitting sideways on the couch. “Yeah, sure. It’s not a big deal to her. Why do you ask?”  
  
 _You know why I’m asking._ He wanted to keep on this train of conversation – keep being a little more Michael and a little less Jeremy so they could get right to the point – but the words froze on his tongue. He opened his mouth. Shut it again. Clenched his fists in his lap until his nails dug into his palms.  
  
He wasn’t going to get anywhere just thinking about it, and if he couldn’t speak, he had to find another way to communicate.  
  
So he kissed him.  
  
Michael sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and grabbed Jeremy around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer with a raw sound.  
  
For days now, Jeremy had found himself wondering in moments of silence if kissing a man was any different from kissing a woman. Would there be some rush of primal energy? The feeling of ragged stubble grating like sandpaper against him? Animalistic teeth and sharpness pulling at his lips until he bled?  
  
No, interestingly enough, Jeremy realized as he draped over Michael’s body, there was nothing different about kissing him at all. Maybe he should’ve been disappointed – but he wasn’t. Just relieved. If there wasn’t anything different about it, then how could he possibly fuck it up?  
  
 _But does he want it?_  
  
Jeremy caught himself on the couch arm above him, muscles straining to hold himself up even as the hand around his neck pulled down. After a moment, Michael let go, moving both of his hands, cupping Jeremy’s face between them.  
  
It gave him the image of how he always saw Michael kiss Lindsay, the love of his life, and the warmth of that mental image made him finally let go.  
  
Their bodies collided, heavy and heated against one another. _God, I’m glad I didn’t drink._ He could taste Michael just as he was, down to the depths of him, instead of liquor or beer or anything that would cloud him. He could forget everything – the fear, the anxiety, and the knowledge that at some point this encounter had to end – and focus on the present moment so sharply that it burned the world around them away.  
  
Michael tangled their legs together on the length of the couch, and he broke the kiss to take a ragged breath. “So, uh, what’s, what’s going on here, like, are we just kissing, or…?”  
  
More relief. Jeremy wanted that clarified more than anything. “I-I don’t really, uh, care about stopping if you don’t.”  
  
Michael nodded, pulling him back down, but the kiss was barely long enough for Jeremy to slide his tongue forward before he met nothing but air. “Okay, and, like, is this just a one time thing?” Michael’s voice cracked, and he scowled in response to it. “I mean, I’m not asking for a relationship or whatever, just making sure that I know what Kat wants.”  
  
“Kat doesn’t care.” Jeremy chased his mouth again, and when Michael kept the distance, jolting backward, he hurried to add on “I don’t care either. I want whatever you want.”  
  
Michael blinked. “I want whatever you want.”  
  
Jeremy waited. He got nothing more to clarify that. For once, Michael was playing _his_ game instead: dragging Jeremy forward, shoving him in the spotlight, and making him establish whatever the fuck was going on right now. He was topsy turvy with the role reversal. It wasn’t what he _wanted_ right now.  
  
He licked his lips and huffed. “Listen, right now all I want is to know what it feels like to do butt stuff with a guy that I trust and like and whatever.”  
  
Michael blinked. “You like me?”  
  
“Uh-”  
  
“Like, check yes or no if you wanna go to the prom with me, that kind of like?”  
  
“ _Uh-_ ”  
  
“’Cuz I need to know if I need to go get my varsity jacket for you or whatever, or if we’re just fumbling around in the back seat of my dad’s car at the drive-in movie, or-”  
  
“Are you trying to put me in a poodle skirt here?” The bantering was soothing, surprisingly enough. Jeremy could relax, stop feeling like he was crushing Michael under his thick weight, and appreciate the sparkle in his eyes.  
  
Michael smirked. “I mean, if you wanna wear the skirt in this thing, you can. I could be in charge or whatever.”  
  
Jeremy quirked an eyebrow. He tried very hard not to be interested in the tone of his voice. “Yeah?”  
  
Michael rolled his eyes, then threw his weight against him, twisting and turning them in a flash so Jeremy was under him, dizzy from the sudden shift. “Okay, so, anyway.” He put one hand around the back of Jeremy’s head and the other on his stomach, so low that he twitched under his touch. “How about I show you where your prostate is, and if you like it...maybe I _keep_ doing it...and, uh, maybe tomorrow we figure out if you ever wanna do it again or whatever.”  
  
Simple, clean, and easy. It worked. Jeremy would be a fool if he said that he thought it was going to be that seamless in the long run, but for right now it worked – especially if it meant he didn’t have to stop kissing Michael again. “Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.”  
  
“Cool.” Michael rocked down and kissed him, and Jeremy slid his arm around his neck. His fingers rested absently against Michael’s pulse point, and the frantic fluttering right under his touch shocked him.  
  
 _God, he wants me just as bad as I want him, doesn’t he?_  
  
He could tell, suddenly, in the way that the formerly cool, focused Michael was breathing just a little too hard against his mouth. The hand on his stomach jerked down instead of moving smoothly, cupping him through his jeans and firmly pressing against his cock. Jeremy caught his breath, hips twitching, and as if Michael could read his thoughts his touch went softer – apologetic, even – as he rubbed him through the thick fabric of his denim.  
  
 _Is that his first time touching another dick?_ A rush of curiosity shot through him, and Jeremy reached blindly until he could touch Michael too. He’d just gotten off, so he wouldn’t be hard, he reasoned to himself, but apparently all he’d needed was an hour to breathe and watch a movie; there was a thick swell right under his touch.  
  
Shit, they really _were_ just like two teenagers figuring this shit out.  
  
Michael’s kisses turned loose and a little sloppy as he tilted his head to the side, deepening the contact as he pushed Jeremy’s legs further apart with one of his thighs.  
  
When fingers started working clumsily at his belt, Jeremy dropped his hands to help, and they fumbled together, entangling and tripping over each other until they had his jeans open. _Is this too fast?_ Jeremy had always wondered that all through high school, when he was kissing girls and wondering when it was _too soon_ to try and grab a tit, but fuck, they were both going at the same speed together. They were both desperate to get his clothes off. Who gave a shit about some unspoken rules? Who was going to burst into the living room right now and tell them to set a timer and spent five minutes minimum at each base before proceeding to the next one?  
  
 _Shit, how far are we going?_ It was up in the air, he knew that – they’d just agreed to it – but it seemed so much more _real_ now that Michael was pulling back to yank Jeremy’s jeans and boxers down in three jerky movements. Michael’s rough fingers ran over his sensitive inner thighs as he stripped him down, and Jeremy wondered – really _wondered_ for the first time – what he looked like when he was fucking someone.  
  
Focused and intent and angry, like he did during tense moments of filming? Or loose and dopey like he was when he and Lindsay were tipsy and away from the cameras and cuddling up in a heap on the nearest couch?  
  
Jeremy pulled his own shirt off, trying not to think about the cold kissing every inch of his bare skin – he’d gone through enough dysmorphia issues over the years to still feel that initial jerk of self-consciousness the first second that he showed even an inch of skin to someone – and focused on Michael’s expression as he tossed the clothes on the floor. He...looked _nervous,_ honestly, with eyes wide behind his glasses and his swollen lips parted as he raked his gaze down Jeremy’s body.  
  
There was time for one thought – _what if he doesn’t like how I look?_ – and then Michael was palming himself through his own jeans and licking his lips, throwing every fear out the window.  
  
Jeremy cocked his head to the side. “What, you’re not even gonna tell me you like what you see?”  
  
“Fuck you.” Michael raked a hand through his hair, that same touch of pink sweeping up and down his neck. “You’re...you’re fucking hot, okay? You’ve always been hot. Jesus, Jeremy. You make the rest of the world look like shit.”  
  
“Oh, that’s a fat lot of shit coming from you. You see yourself in the mirror, buddy? You make me sick, you look so good.”  
  
Michael chuckled as he leaned over him and pressed two kisses to his chest, one on each pectoral. “I make you sick?”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
“With lust, maybe-”  
  
“Okay, listen.”  
  
Michael laughed again as he began to kiss down his body, his breath tickling over his skin. “Listen. I’ve never done this before. None of this. But, uh, we’re gonna figure it out. And if it’s shitty, tell me so I can stop and tell you to suck your own dick.”  
  
Jeremy swore under his breath. “You’re gonna suck my dick?”  
  
“Maybe. Sure. Why not?”  
  
“Oh.” Jeremy tried to process this – Michael’s warm, enthusiastic mouth around his aching cock – and came up sputtering and distracted. “Do, I, uh, I need a condom, right?”  
  
Michael hummed as he reached over again, doing gymnastics just to stay on the couch. “Always come prepared,” he said as he picked up another one.  
  
There were a few more left. Jeremy knew exactly what they could be used for.  
  
Fire raked across his brain and left trails in its wake.  
  
Michael ripped the condom’s wrapper open with his teeth, then glanced up from between his knees, his own legs folded up behind him against the couch arm. “This is fine, though? Me, like, touching your dick while I fingerfuck you?”  
  
“I am on board for literally anything you wanna do with my dick,” Jeremy gushed.  
  
Michael smirked up at him, then cupped the base of Jeremy’s cock with a touch that made him tingle as he positioned the condom. He slid it down, tip pinched, dragging a teasing pleasure through him.  
  
He made sure Jeremy was looking at him before he wrapped his lips around his dick.  
  
Jeremy sucked in a sharp breath, tilting his head back. It felt like every nerve in his body was in the head of his cock, focused on the slow and leisurely sucking of the hot, slick mouth. It didn’t vary. It didn’t change. It gave him time to get used to it – to the fact that Michael, a man that Jeremy had been listening to scream about shit literally for years, was, for once, shutting the fuck up and dead focused on something other than his rage.  
  
It took him a long moment to realize that it was because Michael was thoroughly distracting him before he opened another condom. His breath hitched as Michael slid a finger inside of it, coated that covered finger with lube, then began to rub it over his asshole.  
  
“Oh, _oh,_ okay...” Jeremy’s breathing came too quickly – panic tinging the edges.  
  
Michael hummed - “Mm-mm.” - and Jeremy forced himself to open his eyes and stare down at him again. Finally, _finally,_ he began sliding down Jeremy’s cock little by little, bobbing his head, his soft curls catching the overhead light in a brilliant shade of copper, leaving his cock streaked with saliva every time he began to pull back.  
  
It was enough. The gentle sensation was enough to bring him away from the finger rubbing, rubbing, rubbing at him – enough that Jeremy could pretend it might never even enter him.  
  
But it did. And it...it wasn’t...bad.  
  
Air held tight in his chest. He didn’t blink. He stared at Michael, heart breaking through his ribs, as the finger moved inside him in short, gentle thrusts. It was fucking weird, but not bad. Not bad at all.  
  
Michael quirked a brow. And Jeremy settled back on the couch, blinking, trying to figure out if he actually _liked_ it.  
  
 _Who the fuck am I? Jeremy Dooley hates assholes. He’d never like this._  
  
But the fact remained that the slow stretch was sweet at the edges, thick and...and…  
  
“Shit, I like that,” he whispered, breathing a weak laugh.  
  
Michael made a pleased sound of his own, one that would accompany a smirk if his mouth wasn’t around his dick, and Jeremy covered his face with both hands and let out a rough moan.  
  
He got it. He fucking got it now. As Michael took his time – even pulling out to slick his fingers up a little more before he began working a second inside of him – Jeremy’s skin tingled at the stretch. Michael had been right. It was about discovering the limits of his body weren’t worth shit. They were fluid and weak, and he could shift them any time he wanted.  
  
He could feel the fingers curling inside of him. He felt them scissor open. He felt them plunge deeper and deeper, opening him up in ways he never could’ve imagined.  
  
And then, just when he was relaxing in it all, he felt them drag goosebumps over every inch of him. “Ah!”  
  
“There.” Michael pulled off, Jeremy’s cock bobbing free. “There, you feel that?”  
  
“Oh my fucking God, what the _fuck?_ ”  
  
“Want me to stop?”  
  
Jeremy shook his head frantically – for the first time tonight, he didn’t even have to think about his answer. “Fuck, fuck, no, don’t you dare stop, motherfucker, you, you just...keep doing that...”  
  
Michael smirked, a toothy and dangerous look paired with the spark in his eyes. “Knew it. Knew you’d like it, I fucking _knew_ it. Jesus Christ, look at you.”  
  
He was already flushed, but the remark made him turn bright red. He held himself rigid, afraid to chase the sensation – afraid that if he fucked down on his fingers, he might undo himself from the inside out.  
  
“The second you pulled that shit on my show, I knew you’d look good like this. Couldn’t get it out of my head. Fucked myself that night just _thinking_ about you like this. You look fucking better than I could’ve dreamed.”  
  
The words rolled over each other, filthy and soft all at once, over and over again as the rapturous sensation began to bubble up and explode into an overwhelming ache. He covered his mouth, but he couldn’t hide the sounds jerking out of him as Michael held his hips down with one hand and fucked him with the other.  
  
“Fucking incredible. You’re so fucking hot. You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”  
  
Jeremy sharply moaned, eyes squeezed shut as he panted against his palm. He hadn’t even thought about doing it, but the second Michael said it he felt his cock twitching against his stomach.  
  
“Yeah, you are. C’mon, Jeremy, you can come for me – I’ve got you, it’s okay, you’re amazing.”  
  
And he _did._ Overwhelmed and frozen at the peak of this new, terrifying sensation, he came without a single hand on his cock, arching against Michael’s grip and crying out.  
  
 It was a weird orgasm. Fucking strange. He’d never felt anything quite like it, and he tingled from the aftershocks as Michael rubbed his thigh with one hand and let him come down little by little. “What the fuck?” was all Jeremy could whisper, and the sheer sense of awe he heard in his own tone made him laugh, hands dropping on either side of his face.  
  
“Goddamn.” Michael voice was filled with a distinct admiration – one that Jeremy ever really heard about industry greats or his own heroes – and when he glanced down at him, he could barely believe what was looking back at him.  
  
Tenderness. That was what it was. He recognized it from when Michael looked at Lindsay. And it made Jeremy refuse to let the moment go so soon.  
  
Michael began to drag his fingers out of him, but before he could get too far Jeremy sat up on his elbows, vision still hazy at the edges. “Fuck me.”  
  
Michael froze. “What?”  
  
“Fuck me. With your cock. I’m not done yet.”  
  
Michael burst out laughing, pulling his hand free and gently removing the used condoms so he could tie them up. “What, you serious right now?”  
  
Obviously Michael was going to want to treat it like a joke. But Jeremy wasn’t getting paid from Geoff for being here, was he? He didn’t feel like being funny. He felt like being real. “Listen, Michael, I’ve spent the past, what, seven? Years? With this weird little schoolboy crush on you?” He shook his head. “If I’m gonna go all in here, I might as well ask for what I want. And what I want is for you to fuck me.”  
  
Michael blinked rapidly. His hands stayed busy – putting the used condoms aside for easy disposal later, grabbing the nearby towel to wipe his fingers off, and fiddling with the hem of his own shirt – but he didn’t look away. “...you think it’s weird?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The crush.”  
  
Jeremy shrugged. “It is, though, right? Some guy tells you he’s had a crush on you since Rage Quit started and he didn’t even know it, like, that’s fucking weird.”  
  
After a second of hesitating, Michael pulled his shirt off. “Not really.”  
  
Jeremy’s slowing heart kicked back into gear, as fast as if he was sprinting. “...oh?”  
  
Michael looked away as he slid his boxers down, head tilting down and pink tinging his chest. “I mean, it’s not any weirder than seeing some guy on stage at RTX getting hired out of nowhere and thinking about how good he looks and how you wanna make sure you get to meet him or whatever.”  
  
He remembered that day like it was yesterday. He didn’t think he’d ever forget. But thinking that Michael remembered it too? Fuck, that was too much. “...really?”  
  
Michael shrugged, just like Jeremy had. “Guess we both play the long game, huh?”  
  
His heart was full and overflowing, and if he didn’t feel Michael’s skin on his right the fuck now, he was going to explode. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Michael and pulled him down, kissing him desperately.  
  
Michael’s body slotted against him, the full weight of him crashing down, his elbows digging into Jeremy’s ribs as he cupped his face with both hands and slid his tongue to meet his in the middle. It was...painful, yes – feeling the sharpness of their bones collide – but when Jeremy shifted to get more comfortable, the rush that shot through him from how he had to struggle to move at all under his weight made him catch his breath.  
  
He touched Michael’s sides, experimentally pushing, and as he quickly started to draw back Jeremy made a weak sound.  
  
“Too much?” Michael asked as he reached for the condom and lube.  
  
Jeremy shook his head. “Not...enough.”  
  
Michael quirked a brow. As he slid his condom on and slicked it up, he blinked. “Not enough?”  
  
Fuck, asking was embarrassing, but how the hell else was he going to figure this out? Jeremy bit his bottom lip and pulled Michael down again, the air shooting out of him as he was crushed beneath him, and when Michael tilted his head to the side and pushed one of Jeremy’s wrists into the cushions, Jeremy groaned.  
  
“Yeah?” he asked breathily, barely a whisper. “You like that?”  
  
Jeremy nodded frantically. He opened his legs as far as he could, feeling Michael’s cock drag across his still sensitive dick as he slid into place.  
  
“I’ve got you,” Michael murmured. He moved until the weight of his arm pressed fully into Jeremy’s shoulder, keeping him held there even as he cupped his face again with a certain reverence in his gaze. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”  
  
Jeremy’s eyes flew to meet his in surprise, and Michael flashed him a smile. As the head of his cock pressed against Jeremy’s entrance, he paused, and they stared at each other, eyes sparkling and unable to blink. “Do it,” Jeremy finally whispered back. “Want you.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Never been more sure.”  
  
Michael kissed him again just as he began to press inside of him.  
  
Jeremy groaned, mouth going slack and eyelashes fluttering at the new, unfathomable stretch. “Oh, shit...”  
  
Michael moved away from his lips, letting him whimper and groan and moan as he thrust slowly and shallowly inside of him. He busied himself with kissing a path down Jeremy’s cheek, his jawbone, his chin, his Adam’s apple. The tickle of his mouth only intensified the sensation between his legs – the barely there contact paired with the all encompassing thickness that opened him up little by little.  
  
 _I was a fool._ Jeremy couldn’t help but chuckle as he strained against Michael’s weight, fascinated by the electricity sparking from being held down and the way his chest _ached_ for more. _Holy shit, I was so fucking stupid, and now look at me._  
  
“Good?” Michael’s voice was strained against his neck.  
  
Jeremy nodded again. “Oh my God, so fucking good, don’t...don’t stop.”  
  
“Yeah?” The hand on his cheek slid around the back of his neck, gently massaging the tense muscles there. Michael nibbled at his skin, and Jeremy strained against the weight of his body in a sudden fiery burst before he went lax again, a smile curling over his lips.  
  
 _Who knew? Who fucking knew?_  
  
It was cramped and tight, his shoulder half hanging off the couch from how broad he was, and he could barely breathe from every pound of muscle holding him down, and some part of him knew that he was going to be sore for fucking _days_ after this.  
  
He didn’t care.  
  
“Harder...”  
  
Michael shakily exhaled against his neck. He sucked a mark into him with blistering pain bleeding into sharp pleasure as his hips picked up speed. When Jeremy twitched under him again, Michael reached, grabbed one of his legs, and bent it against his chest, using his own weight to keep him there.  
  
Jeremy knew he needed to focus on every fucking second of what was happening – that he’d play the memory over and over again while he touched himself in the shower and wondered if it would ever happen again – but it was impossible. He was an ocean of sensation, from the drag of Michael’s cock across his prostate to the nails on the back of his neck to the teeth on his collarbone to the dull slap of their hips. He couldn’t pinpoint one individual thing. He couldn’t even process a thought.  
  
All he could do was feel him.  
  
Michael’s ragged breaths finally began to grow louder, pitching into moans and whines against Jeremy’s skin that finally overtook his own sounds. Jeremy held his breath, dead silent, trying to focus on the bruising hand on his hip and the way Michael sounded near goddamn tears.  
  
“Can’t hold back, Jeremy,” Michael finally groaned in apology. “God, you’re so fucking good, I-I can’t-”  
  
Jeremy’s voice felt loose and slurred, but he forced the words out, almost begging. “Come. Come for me, please, Michael, I-I wanna see-”  
  
Michael groaned, rough and high, curling against Jeremy and holding firm. His hips twitched little by little, like he couldn’t control his body, and when Michael grabbed blindly for one of his arms Jeremy flung it around him. Only then did Michael whimper and sink against him, like he was more spent than he was willing to admit.  
  
Sweaty and exhausted, Jeremy held him tightly, and Michael finally got the strength to shove his arms brusquely under him and hold him back. He didn’t pull out. Didn’t pull away. Just...breathed.  
  
“Wow.”  
  
Michael’s lips moved into a smirk against his cheek. “Told you.”  
  
“You did,” Jeremy admitted with a laugh. He hummed and hugged Michael, squeezing his arms as tight as he could, and the three kisses left on his cheek were enough to have him grinning like a fool.  
  
“Maybe, uh, maybe next time...you show me how it felt, huh?”  
  
Jeremy blinked. He touched Michael’s face and guided him until he could see him. “What?”  
  
“Y’know. Next time.” Michael looked at him with that same steady earnestness that had driven Jeremy wild before he even knew he had a crush in the first place. “When you fuck me. Yeah?”  
  
There was a next time. Jeremy’s heart soared. “You serious?”  
  
“Well, I’m not exactly a fuck-and-run kind of guy, Jeremy, please!” Michael slapped his chest half-heartedly, then collapsed on him again. “Who do you think I am, Gavin?”  
  
Jeremy barked a laugh. “No, but really, y-you want this to happen again? You mean it?”  
  
“Barring all wife complaints.” The hand that slapped him began drawing dizzying patterns on his side. “And, uh, y’know, if they’re concerned, I figure we just sit everybody down and talk about it. Maybe make them see how we feel.”  
  
 _How we feel._ Jeremy took the plunge. “With our big fat crushes on each other?”  
  
“The fattest.”  
  
“God.” His face hurt from smiling – arguably even more than his sore ass. “...yeah. Yeah, that...that sounds good to me.”  
  
“Cool.” Michael kissed him, long and lingering, then bussed their noses together. “You don’t mind if I sleep here for like a ten minute power nap, do you?” The exhaustion finally bled through his tone. “I spent the whole night, like, all fucking tense and shit that you didn’t, uh, didn’t feel like that, so if I could just…?”  
  
“Please.” Jeremy hugged him again. It seemed ridiculous, falling asleep with Michael still wearing a goddamn used condom, the both of them sweaty and disgusting, and the likelihood that Jeremy would follow suit when he was such an awful active sleeper was slim to none...but holding Michael Jones in his arms? Breathing him in? Letting this soft blanket of a feeling linger?  
  
Yeah. He could get used to that.


End file.
